"Margaret! the landlord will persist in admiring that hideous wallpaper, and I am afraid we must let it remain," said Mr. Hale to his daughter as he was finishing up his conversation with Mr. Thornton.

"Oh dear! I am sorry!" Margaret replied.

Her father, meanwhile, with his kindly country hospitality, was pressing Mr. Thornton to stay to luncheon with them. It would have been very inconvenient to him to do so, yet he felt that he should have yielded, if Miss Hale by word or look had seconded her father's invitation; he was glad she did not, and yet he was irritated at her for not doing it. She gave him a low, grave bow when he left, and he felt more awkward and self-conscious in every limb than he had ever done in all his life before.

….oOo….

Mr. Thornton left the Hale's hotel room shaking his head. He was replaying the encounter with Miss Hale in his mind.

'Do you know where it is that Mr. Hale has gone to? Perhaps I might be able to find him,' he had asked after taking the seat that he didn't really want to, but had occupied anyway, simply because it was her bidding.

'He has gone to a Mr. Donkin's in Canute Street. He is the land-lord of the house my father wishes to take in Crampton,' she replied with her quiet coldness.

He should have just excused himself then and gone after her father. Consequently his head might not be in the muddle it is in now. How he had allowed that woman to discombobulate him so, he could not comprehend. He was barely able string more than two words together in her presence, instead he just sat there gawking at her. Oh what a fool he must have appeared to her – a great rough fellow, with not a grace or a refinement about him. What a terrible first impression he had made.

But wait! Why on earth did he care? He had never sought the good opinion of any young lady before. But this was a young lady of a different type to most of those he was in the habit of seeing. He had to shake himself out of this dreamy stupor and get a grip on reality. It was obvious she held him in disdain with her haughty demeanor and her proud indifference, he thought. She couldn't even condescend to invite him to luncheon. Mr. Thornton tried to shake her out of his head again. It was all for the best. He didn't have time for luncheon today anyway. It was market-day after all, and he had already wasted an hour of his precious time on this errand.

However, Mr. Thornton couldn't help himself. As he walked back to Marlborough Mills, his mind kept going back to her beautiful countenance and the pale ivory of her complexion. Neither could he repress his admiration for her, nor his desire to do her bidding. His mind then began to wander to all the things he might do for her. He could walk behind her and carry her train. He could hold her umbrella for her when it rained. He could lay his coat across a puddle so that she wouldn't have to soil her slippers. He could shower her with roses or bring her baskets of fruit… He halted dead in his tracks. Scowling at himself and blinking, he berated himself for being such a besotted fool!

Glancing around Mr. Thornton now had to chastise himself for losing track of where he was. To rectify this problem, he looked up to the street sign to determine his location – Canute Street. Then it struck him. He knew exactly what he would do for her.

….oOo….

A moment later he was knocking on the door of Mr. Donkin, the landlord of the house in Crampton. The man himself answered the door.

"Mr. Thornton!" said he, greatly astonished at the appearance of the prominent manufacturer on his doorstep.

Since Donkin stood there dumbfounded, forgetting his manners, Mr. Thornton was compelled to say, "Mr. Donkin, a word with you please."

Bumbling and stepping aside, Mr. Donkin stuttered, "Ah, y-yes, Mr. Thornton. Please, c-c-come in."

The landlord offered to take his coat and hat but Thornton waved him off. He would not be there long.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Donkin asked.

Thornton replied, "I believe my friend," he emphasized the word, "Mr. Richard Hale, recently stopped by to see you about the place you have to let, in Crampton."

"Yes, sir, he did. Signed the paperwork already," replied the satisfied landlord.

"He seemed quite pleased with the place," Thornton complimented, "However, he did mention to me an aversion he and his daughter had for some of the wallpapers. I just wanted to stop by and let you know so that you could remedy the situation."

"Oh, yes, sir. I-I will take care of that right away, as the family will be moving in in a c-couple of days," the man stammered out while foolishly nodding profusely.

"Very good," Thornton replied. Then as he turned to leave he was suddenly struck with a spark of inspiration. Looking back at Donkin he said, "And Donkin, make sure that the new paper…" he paused to think for a moment, "has a good deal of yellow about it."

Mr. Thornton replaced his hat on his head, wished the man a good day and departed.

….oOo….

Two days later Margaret stood in the middle of her family's new drawing room in Crampton. She turned slowly in a circle, eyes wide and mouth agape. She was quite pleasantly astonished. The obnoxious papers were gone! They had been replaced with beautiful modern papers in yellow, her favorite color, with lovely flowers and birds. She was quite in raptures.

The landlord received the family's thanks very composedly; and let them think, if they liked, that he had relented from his expressed determination not to repaper. There was no particular need to tell them, that what he did not care to do for a Reverend Mr. Hale, unknown in Milton, he was only too glad to do at the one short sharp remonstrance of Mr. Thornton, the wealthy manufacturer.